


Scenter of Attention

by mthrfkrgdhrwego (universalchampbalor)



Series: Barking Up The Right Tree [2]
Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Armpit Kink, Body Worship, Cock Worship, Kinda, M/M, Puppy Play, Scent Kink, Shoe Kink, Sweat, Underwear Kink, Underwear Theft, also deans fuckin gross so hed be into it, is it underwear theft if u snatch some of ur bfs' dirty laundry, kinad, this is so self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 21:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15397905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalchampbalor/pseuds/mthrfkrgdhrwego
Summary: Seth stands and gestures for Roman to follow. He does, leaving Dean spread on the floor to recover. Finn helps him up, presses a hand into Dean’s back pocket. He gropes Dean, nimble fingers busy as they make pleasantries with their coworkers who just watched Dean almost get off on being forced into Roman’s pit.The shame that slithers down Dean’s spine is almost delicious as the taste of Roman’s sweat.





	1. Chapter 1

By the time it happens, no one’s surprised. 

They already know about the whole dog thing, which had been a catastrophe and a half. Thankfully, they’ve known him for years, and none of them seem bothered by his shit. Sometimes, he silently thanks whatever higher powers may exist for giving him people who can deal with his bullshit.

It doesn’t happen all at once. Instead, it takes months, a number of occurrences before any of them put two and two together even though it was right under their noses.

The inciting incident, as far as any of them can guess, was _at least_ a year ago, after a taping of Raw. Finn had been new to their relationship, but was used to going to bars with them. 

Like always, it took some cajoling to drag Roman out with them. The older man had always been more content sitting in the hotel room reading rather than going to bars and pulling Dean away from fights. Still, with enough prodding, he goes out with them.

That’s the first way they went wrong.

The second way is by letting Dean have more than enough drinks. 

He ends up knocking back shots and stealing sips from Seth’s mixed drinks and Roman and Finn’s beers. He can still stand on his own but moving is a little wonky and thinking has become lackadaisical. His mouth is fuzzy and his tongue is heavy and his words seem to come out a little tangled. He wants to fight, feels the itch in his knuckles, behind his teeth. He has one arm looped around Roman’s waist and the other stuffed in Seth’s back pocket. He’s trying to goad his coworkers into a fight, trying to egg on Seth, Finn, both of the Bobbys, and memorably, Braun into fighting him.

It’s a bit of a blur, but somehow he ends up on the ends of his thighs in a headlock from Roman.

He remembers baring his teeth at Roman, remembers the hand on his side turning a little hard, remembers getting tossed down with a knee to his back. His neck and back are bent at an awkward angle, the skin on his neck and the muscles around his larynx feeling tight, like he can’t breathe despite the air he’s gulping down.

Dean’s face is pressed into the crook of Roman’s shoulder and torso, a clump of t-shirt pressed into his mouth. He knows Roman had showered after his match, but that was an eternity ago and they’ve spent at least two or three hours in a dingy bar. Roman’s sweaty, and there’s a familiar musk flooding Dean’s senses. 

The first thing Dean registers is his tongue pressed against the same wet fabric his teeth are lightly clamped around. The fabric isn’t soaked, just damp with sweat that still tastes a little salty, the seam rough against his tongue. 

The second thing he registers is the smell. It smells like Roman, full and thick and heady. Roman’s showered, but it was earlier in the day, so the smell of Roman’s soap is faint, faded. Instead, he smells like sweat, like beer, like the grease from the cheese fries they devoured earlier. He smells like home.

The third thing Dean registers is the fact that he’s getting hard. 

He can feel himself swell in his jeans, pressing against the zipper of his jeans. There’s something growing in his stomach, clouding his head almost like subspace but darker, and it spreads a little further every time he gasps for air. His balls feel heavy, feel tight against his body, drawn up like he’s gonna come any second. He’s seriously debating the morality of rubbing himself off against the sticky wood floor of the crowded bar.

He’s considering it when a hand grips his chin and drags him out of Roman’s armpit.

It’s Seth, crouching in front of him with a smirk that can almost be described as cruel. He drags his fingertips down the line of Dean’s throat, aching from being stretched backward. “Seems like the little mutt’s enjoying himself. Needs to be taken down.” He murmurs, cupping Dean’s jaw. 

Dean whines, tries to lean into the callused palm against his cheek, but he’s stopped by the thick arm still wrapped around his neck. His nose and lips feel a little wet, his nose and mouth still full of the musk of Roman. He knows his pupils are dilated, wide and blocking the blue of his irises. 

Seth stands and gestures for Roman to follow. He does, leaving Dean spread on the floor to recover. Finn helps him up, presses a hand into Dean’s back pocket. He  _ gropes _ Dean, nimble fingers busy as they make pleasantries with their coworkers who  _ just watched Dean almost get off on being forced into Roman’s pit _ .

The shame that slithers down Dean’s spine is almost delicious as the taste of Roman’s sweat.


	2. Chapter 2

The second occurrence happens approximately three weeks later. 

They’ve ended up getting two hotel rooms for the four of them since sometimes, fitting four grown men into two queen beds is too much effort. Roman and Finn have taken one, leaving Seth and Dean to the other. 

Dean doesn’t mind. He’s slept in worse places with worse people. Seth whines about it, complaining about having to share a bed with Dean, who’s well known as a serial bed hog and cover stealer. 

Dean wakes up at three am after what he would consider a bad dream. It’s not a nightmare, but it isn’t pleasant and he still wakes up too warm and uncomfortable. He has one leg tossed high across Seth’s, almost over his hips. An arm is wrapped like a vice around Seth’s torso. Seth has one arm wedged underneath himself, the other tossed up, his hand under his head, elbow bent, with Dean’s face shoved into his pit.

Seth’s one of the few dudes in the industry that doesn’t shave his pits. Because of that, the smell of his sweat is  _ strong _ and thick and the wet curls of hair there are tickling Dean’s nose.

He wakes up gasping, inhaling the smell and taste of sweat with every breath. It’s thick at the back of his throat. It’s  _ sour,  _ sharp, mixed with the scent of fading deodorant and soap. It’s dizzying.

He doesn’t realize his tongue has lolled between his lips until he feels the coarse hair on his tongue.

Seth’s sweat is salty and a little stale and he can’t help but make a soft keening noise as he licks away the traces of Seth’s earlier workout. The taste, combined with the smell, is cloying, overwhelming.

He doesn’t know what he expected since he’s literally sucking on the soft skin of Seth’s underarm, but he’s still surprised when Seth wakes up and makes a questioning noise.

Dean yanks his head back with enough force that he almost brains himself on Seth’s elbow in the process and nearly launches himself off the bed. Seth catches him with and arm wrapped around the waist, tugging him close. Dean buries his face in Seth’s neck and tries not to cry.

“Y’having fun there?” Seth slurs tiredly, kissing the top of Dean’s head. Dean doesn’t respond and hopes the moisture on his face left over from sweat isn’t noticeable.

“Go t’ sleep, babe. We c’n talk in the morning.” Seth yawns, petting Dean’s wild curls. Dean nods and sinks down, curling into a ball at Seth’s shins.

When Seth mumbles out a tired “goodnight,” Dean can only let out a quiet whine in response.


	3. Chapter 3

The third time takes forever to happen.

For once, they’re at home, finally having three days off. They’ve decided to go to Dean’s house since it was closest and Finn is insistent on using Dean’s pool. 

Dean’s in the process of gathering his dirty gear to clean while he has the luxury of his own washing machine and dryer when Finn stops him in his tracks.

“Hey babe, is it ok if I toss my laundry in with yours?” It takes a moment for Finn’s words to register because Dean is too busy looking at the pool water dripping down his boyfriend’s chest. After a moment, he nods and lets Finn add his laundry to the hamper he’s holding. Finn leaves the room, shouting something at Seth as he heads to the backyard.

Dean’s halfway through loading all the dirty clothes into the washing machine when something falls onto his foot.

When he looks down, he sees it’s one of Finn’s jockstraps. It’s probably from the last time they went to the gym, which was a few days ago now that they’ve had some time off. He quickly loads the rest of the washer and bends to pick up the jock. He pauses when he has it in his hand.

Roman’s out at the store restocking for the absurd amount of food they’re going to eat over the next few days. Finn’s been spending the day in the pool, floating on his back with his sunglasses on. Seth is… god knows where Seth is but Dean’s certain he isn’t gonna be around for a while.

Before Dean’s really registered what he’s doing, he has the jock pressed to his nose. 

It smells strong and sour, thick with sweat soaked into the fabric. The sweat smells different than the sweat he’s used to. It’s muskier, headier, and he’s dizzy just smelling it. His other hand quickly gets shoved into his pants. 

He rolls his thumb over the head of his dick, the space cramped by his jeans. His wrist is pinned to his stomach by his waistband, fingers curled in his pubic hair. His knees are going weak, and he’s bent over the washing machine as he jerks off quick and dirty.

He’s panting heavily against the jock, inhaling mouthfuls of sweat every time he gasps. He wants to pull his dick out of his pants to jerk off more comfortably but he can’t bare taking his hand off himself or removing the jock from his face long enough to tug down his zipper.

He’s so  _ fucking close _ he can taste it, muffling his moans with the jock. The calluses of his palms are dragging across the sensitive skin of his dick and he only has his own precome to use as lube and it almost  _ hurts _ but fuck, if he doesn’t love it.

He's faint with a lack of breath and the pleasure flooding his senses when he hears a soft, “Hey babe, have y- oh shit.”

He whips his head to look at the doorway and sees Finn, standing in a small pool of water as he stares at Dean, mouth agape and cheeks red. His lips are slick with saliva and water and his hair is plastered to his forehead. He's not wearing anything- insisted on swimming buff since they're on Dean's private property. His pupils are blown impossibly wide as he stares at Dean, who still has the dirty jock pressed to his face and his hand down his pants.

He comes right then and there and spends the night at a bar across town.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Tonyknees on tumblr! Come bug me!


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